Page 44 of THE SOULBOND AND HER BELOVED (Beasts Of Wrath And Madness #4)

Chapter forty-four

HOW DOES IT FEEL

Three days later.

Daemonikai had been right. Zaiper wished he had never lived to see this day.

As he was paraded through the crowded square, head bowed, chains clinking with each step, humiliation was the only thing left in him. This—this—was abject disgrace. The worst of the worst. He was clad in nothing but soiled under-briefs, thick shackles chaining his hands and feet. The bindings laced with toxins, draining him of what remained of his strength. He couldn’t shift. Couldn’t run. Couldn’t fight.

And the people? They were relentless.

“Scumbag!”

“Evil devil!”

“May your soul rot in the nine hells!”

Their hate was a chorus, hot as the sun beating down on him.

Every step was a reminder of how far he had fallen—from a Grand Lord to this, a caged male on display for public ridicule.

Zaiper never chose death lightly. But this public disgrace was far worse.

A woman lunged through the line of guards. “You deserve mob justice!” she screamed, spitting at him.

The spittle slapped his cheek, warm, reeking of bile.

Zaiper tried to snarl, to bare his fangs. But it emerged as nothing more than a low, broken growl. He was too weak. Starved of food. Deprived of blood. Exhausted beyond measure.

Soldiers bordered him on all sides, shielding him from the worst of the assault, but it was a thin wall between order and chaos. Two separate mobs had already tried to rush him during this miserable procession—and now, another awaited ahead.

“Give him to us!”

“Let us have him!”

“He deserves to die screaming!”

“Stay back!” a soldier shouted, attempting to hold the tide.

But then it happened.

A hard object slammed into Zaiper’s back with a vicious crack, pain detonating through his spine. Then came fists. Boots. Claws. He hit the ground, and they descended like a pack of wolves.

There were no screams from him—only choked gasps and strangled grunts. He couldn’t shout. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.

He tasted his own blood. Heard the distinct snap of his ribs caving beneath a savage stomp. He wanted to call out—to demand the soldiers do their damn jobs. But his voice was gone. Lost.

Were those bunch of fools even trying to help? It didn’t feel like it.

A moment later, a foul-smelling water was thrown over him. But it was boiling hot. Dirty. Tainted.

A roar was forcefully ripped from his scratchy throat as his skin sizzled . His skin peeled before his very eyes. Tears blurred what little he could still see. The agony was unbearable. The stench of scalded skin mixed with the filth of wastewater.

At last, the bastards moved in—pulling the mobs off him, barking orders and restoring control.

Too little, too fucking late!

“Spineless curs!” Zaiper roared at them, but all that came out was a wet, gurgled hiss.

The agony made his head spin, and everywhere blacked out.

***

When he came to, Zaiper was hanging upside down, suspended mid-air like a gutted animal. The pain hadn’t lessened—it was still there, just as brutal. Blood rushed to his head, making him dizzy and heavy. His lower body was going numb. This wasn’t just uncomfortable. It was debilitating.

“Look who finally chose to join us.”

That voice. The one he had tried not to dread hearing all week. The one he hated more than anything.

Zaiper groaned as he struggled to open both eyes. Blood rushed into one, burning like fire. Hissing, he clamped it shut. Through the other, he saw Daemonikai—seated casually in a chair at the far side of the cell, legs crossed, flipping through a news pamphlet like he was lounging in a palace courtyard instead of a dungeon.

“Surely you have other things to occupy your time with than being here,” Zaiper’s voice came out graveled and raw. “Your female just gave birth.”

Daemonikai calmly set the pamphlet aside, giving him his full attention. "Worry not about me. I am precisely where I want to be."

There was no fire in his tone. No rage. No gloating for capturing him. Just… calm .

Unease slithered down Zaiper’s spine like a serpent. What game is he playing?

Zaiper ignored it. “What happened to my men?”

“You mean the vamps?” Daemonikai’s tone remained even. “Gone. The few we captured were beheaded at dawn. Their heads sent back to their king as a trophy.”

Zaiper closed his eye. His throat burned as he swallowed his own blood.

“Your new head soldier was executed, too,” Daemonikai added. “But that’s not nearly as important as why we are here. Who is your dark mage, and where can we find him?”

“You really think I’d give you that information?” Zaiper smirked, even as it caused him a great deal of pain. He still had leverage. “Come now, Daemonikai. It must not be fun navigating life with all those lovely voices in your head. How about this—you let me go, and I’ll give you what you want.”

The grand king chuckled. “Oh, Zaiper,” he said, indulgent. “Make no mistake—you will give me everything I want. I hope you resist, truly. I want you to. It will make extracting each secret from you infinitely more satisfying. I will take great pleasure in tearing them from you one by one until you sing them to everyone willing to listen.”

“I’ve already prepared myself for torture,” Zaiper said. “I know there’s no escaping it. You may as well begin. But know this—I’ve already prepared my parting gift for you. You see your madness… that curse? That spell? I’ll take the source to my grave ,” he vowed, smug. “You will live out the rest of your life with a fractured mind filled with voices. One day, who knows, they may even drive you to murder your new precious family.”

“Mmm. I admire your spirit. So tell me.” Daemonikai leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Does it feel good to see the chaos you caused with your spells—watching me go mad while you strutted around with your sanctimonious speeches, branding me the crazy king unfit for the First Throne?”

Zaiper laughed. He couldn’t help himself.

“You’ve no idea how fun it was. Playing you like a puppet, note by note, from the sidelines, with you none the wiser. It was... exquisite.” His grin was unrepentant. “But don’t blame me too much, Daemonikai. The real culprit was your pride. You believed yourself invincible. Too strong to be touched, too feared to be challenged. And because of that arrogance, you gave someone like me the perfect opening.”

He let out a wheezing cough of amusement. “The Dragaxlovs have always sought the throne, but the Naelzharoth was too powerful. My grandfather shared with me that it was his lifelong dream to sit on the First Throne, yet every minor scheme he attempted to wrest it from your grandfather failed. He was a coward, you see, just like the rest of them.” Zaiper sighed. “Even at a hundred, I knew I was different from those spineless relics. I knew I would achieve great things, and I knew you would assist me. Your casual dismissal, that prideful superiority… always a Naelzharoth, viewing the rest of us as beneath you. You never even regarded me as a threat. And that's why I won.”

Daemonikai's silence lingered.

“I took your family and savored every second of your roars that night,” Zaiper continued, enjoying himself. “When Evielyn begged me to spare her son, I watched the light fade from her eyes as I buried a blade into your firstborn. You can’t imagine the thrill of watching him struggle for breath. And watching your precious queen bleed out before me...” He closed his eyes, reliving it. “That memory alone overshadows the pain in my body now. It was art. One of my greatest creations.”

“You went mad, and I rejoiced,” Zapier purred. ”Five hundred years without you was paradise. Would have remained so if I'd managed to get that bastard Vladya and that son of a bitch Ottai to help kill you off. I think that was my greatest regret... I should have tried fucking harder. But can you blame a male? I never saw your return coming.”

“But you did come back,” he spat. “Same self-righteous, superior swine, dripping with power like the gods hand-fed it to you. You stormed into my home, humiliated me with your Alpha Will, and strutted around like a fucking sun god. I bet you enjoy throwing around how fucking powerful you are. I didn’t enjoy that, but you know what I did enjoy?” The smirk was back. “Her screams that night.”

He heard it—a nearly silent intake of breath. At last, a response.

Zaiper's heart soared. Oh, the fun he was having.

“I bet you don’t remember it. Mother Nature tends to be thorough like that—especially when it comes to protecting the mind. But don’t worry. I’ll give you a little recap.” He smiled. “You were merciless. Brutal. Her screams shook the strongest of towers as you tore her apart for your own pleasure—sawing through raw wounds and bruises just to satisfy yourself. All. Fucking. Night.”

Daemonikai didn’t flinch.

Zaiper went on.

“She passed out from the pain, from the sheer misery… and still, you didn’t stop. You, who claimed to care for her, who called her your heart, your mate, your radiant star—you made her suffer until her body broke beneath you. Again. And again. And again.” Damn, his good eye was stinging. He blinked hard to clear the sweat. “Honestly, I’d be amazed if the two of you ever manage to get intimate again without her reliving that night.”

Silence.

“I never did enjoy how even as misfortune backed you into a corner, you still never looked my way.” Zaiper’s voice tightened. “Hurt my pride, I won’t lie. But every time one of my plans worked, every time you remained blissfully ignorant—made it worth it.”

“You want to know why?” the grand king said, tone mild.

Zaiper blinked. “Why what?”

“Why I never looked your way. Why it never occurred to me that you were the one pulling strings.”

Zaiper narrowed his eye. Why does he still sound calm? He should be seething, unable to control this violent retaliation!

“Because you were nothing but a rat. A coward not worth my attention. A squeaking, scheming little thing too afraid to face me like an alpha, so you crept in shadows, clawing and fretting from the dark.” Daemonikai’s voice was clear, unshaken. “You couldn’t challenge me for the First Throne. You didn’t dare. Not with your tail tugged between your legs every time I so much as acknowledged your presence.”

Zaiper’s face twisted.

“You went to such great lengths to mask your petty little tricks,” Daemonikai said. “Because deep down, you knew what you were. Not a rival. Not a warrior. But a sewer rat, terrified of the lion’s gaze.”

Shame sliced through Zaiper. Rage rose in him, but he had no words to wield it.

“Why didn’t I look your way?” Daemonikai’s voice dropped lower. “Because you never ranked high enough on my radar to matter . Dragaxlov has always resented the Naelzharoth, but the feeling was never mutual. We simply didn’t care enough to return it. I gave you too much credit,” he said softly. “I assumed —even with our history—that you had at least a shred of honor. I didn’t know your cowardice ran deeper than the blood in your veins. That was my mistake, and I take full responsibility for that. But tell me, Zaiper,” his voice was a smooth drawl. “How does it feel to have lived for five thousand years seething with hatred... for a man who never gave you a second thought?”

Zaiper couldn’t hold back a snarl. That asshole…!

“How does it feel to have nurtured all those wicked dreams, only to fail every single one of them?”

Zaiper’s chest heaved in rapid, shallow bursts. Every breath hurt like fire scraping down his lungs, but he couldn’t stop.

Daemonikai slanted his head. “How does it feel to be nothing but a dangling sack of shame—strung upside down in a cage—watching me , alive, whole, and undefeated?” He smiled. “I have a new family now. A son and daughter with my blood. A kingdom at peace. And a mate— the same one you thought you broke —waiting to receive me with open arms as soon as I walk through the door.”

Zaiper despised the mental images the words created. He tried to shut them out but couldn’t. The pain in his body, numbed by his momentary high, was fast returning.

“How does it feel, knowing you’ll die in this world without ever once sitting on the First Throne? That you’ll leave this life without so much as smelling the power of sole rule?”

Don’t let him get to you, do NOT let him get to you. Don’t react. Don’t give him the satisfaction.

“How does it feel knowing that every move you made, every scheme you set into motion, was for nothing because the gods have given back everything you took from us? I have a Soulbond and two strong, amazing younglings. Vladya has a Soulbond , too, and an heir. Ottai’s female? She is with child, did you know?”

“ Shut the fuck up! ” Zaiper roared, thrashing violently, the chains rattling like wild thunder, biting into his flesh.

Daemonikai only raised a brow. “Oh. I forgot to mention—you were probably wondering what the celebration was about last night. Well, Vladya got his soul back. The final ritual succeeded yesterday.”

Zaiper screamed again in rage, fury, pure animal madness. He fought the chains like a dying beast, writhing as if his hatred alone could break steel. I’ll kill him! I’ll tear his throat out with my teeth!

Daemonikai reclined back in a relaxed pose, watching with disinterest as if Zaiper was merely throwing a tantrum.

“Yes,” the male continued coolly. “Vladya feels whole now. The male you always mocked for being cursed, then took away his bondmate. But she returned to him, not merely as a lover who may be compatible with him, but as his fated mate.” Daemonikai’s lips twitched. “Then there’s you . Hanging here like a carcass in my dungeon. With a dead lover, no heir, no legacy. No throne.”

Zaiper’s scream tore from deep within his soul. “ DON’T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT HIM! ”

“Who? Oh you mean the dead lover?” Daemonikai smirked, adding with a drawl. “I never did tell you, did I? Just how good it felt to kill him .”

Zapier struggled even harder. One leg jerked so hard, causing the chain to snap taut, nearly dislocating him, but Zaiper didn’t care, writhing and snarling like a feral.

“His spine snapping in two as it struck my knees… that sound... it stayed with me for months. It had a better tone than even the harp.”

“ Fuck you, Daemonikai! I’ll fucking kill you! ” Zaiper was out of control, spitting rage with so much venom. He hated how casually Daemonikai spoke of Razarr’s death. And worst of all, he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Tears stung his eyes. Helplessness devoured his burning limbs. “I should have killed you when I had the chance, back when you were struggling with soul death! I should’ve ended you and damned the consequences!”

Daemonikai threw his head back and laughed.

That amused sound made Zaiper taste bile .

Finally, the male took a deep, calming breath before lifting a brow. “Have you forgotten? You tried, but my female killed your assassin. As for not doing it yourself... well. That’s just one more regret to carry to your grave, isn’t it? It’s going to be a full one, Zaiper.”

Zaiper shook, physically vibrating with rage and shame. The unwanted tears came again, burning his good eye.

“Tell me, how does it feel knowing Kristoff’s son will sit on your throne? Knowing he was under your nose the entire time, and you never knew? How does it feel to know our people are happy again? That the humans you manipulated—used like a pawn to take the fall for your plans—fought for us on eclipse night? They protected our younglings, standing for our lands when we could not.” He leaned in. “How does it feel knowing, once again, Naelzharoth wins ?”

“Stop talking!!” Zaiper roared. The chains clanked, rattling fiercely as he pulled against them with all the force he had left. “Stop talking right now!”

“Easy, Zaiper,” Daemonikai said. “Don’t let your heart give out on me just yet. This is only the beginning. Your life is my price, and I’d hate to lose it before I’ve had my fun.”

Zaiper panted like a rabid dog on its last leg.

“So before we get started,” Daemonikai continued with indifference. “Wegai, cut him down.”

The metal gates creaked, footsteps approaching. Then the slash of a blade through chain.

Zaiper fell like dead weight, landing with a jarring thud. Pain shot through every inch of his body as he lay there, breathing hard, every part of his body screaming. The chains on his wrists remained, but his legs were free.

The soldier stepped back into position, silent.

“There’s a saying, who lives by the sword, dies by the sword. And me? I believe in an eye for an eye. Or several, ” Daemonikai said. “I’ve spent a great deal of time in madness, Zaiper. And during that time, I’ve realized—we’ve been unfair to the ferals. We kill them on sight without a second thought, not giving them a fair chance, not making an attempt to save them. But not anymore.”

“Where the fuck are you going with this?”

Daemonikai smiled, the kind that didn’t reach the eyes. “If we’re to begin testing a way to treat feral, if we want an antidote someday, we must begin somewhere, don’t you think? For instance, let’s say…” he drew it out as if actually thinking about it, “…satisfying their basic instincts. And you, Zaiper... you are our first and only experiment.”

It took a moment for the meaning to reach Zaiper through the fog of pain.

Then ice rushed through Zaiper’s veins like a torrent. He was so stunned, so utterly horrified , he couldn’t even speak.

“ Bring in the two ferals. ”

“No...” Zaiper managed to croak. “That’s low. You don’t mean that.”

And there goes that laughter again.

“Oh, Zaiper. You spent an entire monologue describing how much you enjoyed listening to my female scream. I just thought—how poetic would it be to see how much you enjoy your own ?” A beat of silence. “Let’s see how well you enjoy being on the receiving end.”

Then—he heard it.

Chains. Clinking, dragging, echoing through the corridor.

Coming closer.

"Your first two are here." Rising, Daemonikai moved to the doorway. "There are eight more, held in chains, just for you… waiting for their turn. You satisfy them, you heal, you get another set. Rinse and repeat until all ten are done."

All semblance of pride and finesse abandoned Zaiper in a single, crumbling breath. "Don't you dare give me to ferals! You know what they’ll do to me! That’s barbaric! There are some things you just don’t do to an alpha! Some lines you don’t cross as a ruler the people look up to! Daemonikai! "

Daemonikai snorted another laugh. “You are kidding, right?”

“Please don’t do this. Torture me however else you see fit but—”

“Oh, don’t be in such a rush. That will come in time. Just relax and enjoy the show as you always have.” With that, Daemonikai walked through the iron doors.

“Daemonikai! You bastard…!” Zaiper shouted, voice climbing in raw panic.

The ferals were dragged in.

Zaiper scrambled, trying to push up, trying to move. But his weak, shaking, useless body betrayed him. He couldn’t lift himself. He couldn’t escape.

The two sedated feral beasts were dropped unceremoniously to the floor, their bodies limp, features slack.

Zaiper watched with shallow breath, eyes wide.

Then the soldiers poured a thick, glistening liquid into their mouths, and quickly hurried out.

“Don’t you dare leave me with them! Come back— COME BACK! ” Zaiper screamed.

The cell door slammed shut behind them, the lock engaging.

Silence.

Then growls reached his ears.

Low at first. Then rising. Hungry. Alert.

Zaiper’s eyes slowly, dreadfully , moved from the door to them.

Two pairs of inhuman eyes stared back at him—glowing, wide, and awake . They looked at him the way a starving wolf looks at a wounded rabbit.

His own beast whining within him, sensing unfathomable danger. The worst kind of danger.

Both ferals rose.

Zaiper shook his head, hard. “No... no, no, wait! ”

They pounced on him.